


Bottled Up and Boxed In

by 221A_brina



Series: The Crowbar Chronicles [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: A year has passed since I wrote my note, And in a (bathing) box, Collection Name: Close Quarters, Crowbarring new works into old (closed) trope collections, Crowbarring phics, Did I mention there'd be crowbars?, F/M, Granted some folks call them prybars, I hope that someone gets my, I hope that someone gets my -, I hope that someone gets my ~, I really don't think that's going to fit, It did. I really pushed, Late But Creative, MFMM Year of Tropes, MFMMMar2017, Marshmallow + Fluff, Message in a bottle, Please keep your crowbar handy in case of emergency, Pushing My Luck, Semantics again, Sendin' out an S.O.S., Sendin' out an S.O.S..., Squeezed in indeed, Thank You olderbynow, The power of the crowbar, This has been a public service announcement, Two bottles for the price of one, Which was: Bottle Episode, With a side of Cinnamon Roll, at least I thought so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221A_brina/pseuds/221A_brina
Summary: Bottles and boxes and beach, Oh My! Dot and Hugh enjoy a day at the foreshore.aka 'When MFMMMar2017 missed trope (Bottle Episode - Collection Name: "Close Quarters") meets the August Bonus Trope (Collection Name: "Squeezing It In.")'





	Bottled Up and Boxed In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inzannatea (Zanna23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/gifts).



> This is for Inzannatea (Zanna23) - I thought you might like a little fluff right now. And since your birthday is right around the corner, an early treat.
> 
> (Exerpt from @olderbynow's tumblr posting.) For a while now some of the MFMM fic writers have been talking about how interesting it'd be if we all took the same prompt and wrote a fic based on it - to see how different the results would be. Well, it's finally happening, and - slightly mad with the success of the Year of Tropes - we want ALL of fandom to join in. So here it is, the August Bonus Fic Prompt: 
> 
> "I really don't think that's going to fit."  
> "Of course it will. Just push." 
> 
> Author's Note:  
> Because my muses were on vacation or ignoring me or what. ev. errr... earlier in the year, I missed doing some of the monthly tropes. This is my attempt to kill 4? 5? 6? (I lost count) birds with one series, which I have aptly named "The Crowbar Chronicles" which seemed go nicely with the 'fitting and pushing' theme. 
> 
> Each phic in this series will satisfy the Trope Challenges in a double way - A) The theme will be employing the missed month's trope whilst also B) including the August Bonus Trope 2 sentences of dialog. (Double your pleasure, double your fun, or is it merely double trouble? You decide.)

**The Crowbar Chronicles Volume 2**

 

**Bottled Up and Boxed In**

 

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon on the foreshore of St. Kilda. The clouds were fluffy and white, gently floating amidst a sky so bright and blue. The sun was dancing diamonds on the cresting waves as they tumbled in and rolled out, leaving a soft line of bubbling foam in their wake. Children were frolicking in the waves, mothers watching nearby under colorful paper parasols, fathers raced their sons along the beach, and puppies chased and barked at the incoming water creeping in and encroaching upon the last vestiges of parched sand. A steady sea breeze caused any and all bits of fabric present (pennants, towels, blankets, and cover-ups alike) to boisterously flutter and wave. The row of bathing boxes stood sentry in a line of riotous color, a last refuge to all those taking shelter and respite from the sun, separating the care-free life at the beach from the drudgery of everyday existence.

It was on this particularly lovely day in this glorious setting, Dorothy "Dottie" Williams, and her beau Constable Hugh Collins, had availed themselves of the many offerings of the St. Kilda foreshore, beginning with a delightful walk arm in arm along the water's edge, continuing with a rowdy romp in the waves (well... as rowdy as decorum would allow) and ending in a race in the sand with Dot decidedly slowing at the end and Hugh just barely edging by her. _(After all, she had to let him catch her at some point; a lady mustn't let her man feel unmanly or inadequate. Wink, wink.)_ As he slid by her, he grasped her around the waist and brought her forward into his arms, their laughter rising onto the wind to disappear into the pleasant cacophony of the beach.

"Hugh Collins!" she managed to squeak out in between giggles, her hands pressed into his chest. "Let. Me. Go!" Her words were punctuated by half-hearted 'smacks.' The sternness in her voice betrayed by the smile on her face as a rosy flush swept up her cheeks. 

An identical flush graced the even more rosy cheeks and ears of the strapping young man who was loosening his arm’s hold on her, but not with his eyes, which continued to keep her in a visual embrace. His shy smile burst forth into a broad grin, all sparkling eyes and bright teeth. "Uh... sorry, Dottie... Dot..." Hugh Collins flashed his best 'innocent school boy' smile at his lady love in hopes of disarming her attempted stern demeanor. As usual, Dot capitulated, unable to resist his boyish charms. 

She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth, raking it between her teeth as a devilish twinkle lit up her eyes. On a whim, Dottie started towards the pier, her hand tangling in Hugh's as she pulled him along. "Come along, Hugh! Keep up!" She chuckled as she ran, a look of utter joy racing across her face.  

A look of wide-eyed surprise erupted on the face of her unsuspecting beau as he was jerked forward, momentarily stumbling behind her. Within a few paces, they were in step, gracefully jogging in the direction of the pier. Their forward momentum slowed a few yards away when they were engulfed by the shadow of the pier, their vision momentarily obscured by the stark contrast of travelling from bright sunlight to the darker under pier. The usual ocean deposits and detritus littered the sand under the shelter of the wooden planks, with the heaviest area of accumulation surrounding the support posts. It was in this pile that the keen eyes of Dottie Williams spied a slight glimmer reflected off the beams of light trickling through the wood slats. She quickly ducked down to investigate, her hand dropping out of Hugh's as she reached out to brush away the seaweed from the item she discovered. 

"What's that you've found, Dottie?" Hugh asked, intrigued. 

"Oh, look, Hugh! It's a bottle! With a message in it! I've always wanted to find one... or send one out." She gingerly picked up the water worn bottle, shaking off the debris clinging to its exterior, the papers inside barely visible through the brown glass, a flip-top closure* securely stoppered in its top, its wires encrusted and rusting. 

"What say we take it to the bathing box and dry it off before opening it?" The eager young man suggested. 

"Very smart idea, Constable Collins." She smiled at his suggestion and nodded in agreement. "Besides," she started, slightly out of breath from their run, "I could use a sit down, and a bit of that picnic we brought. The sea air always makes me hungry." 

"Me too," her affable gentleman agreed. "That and I can never get enough of your goodies!" He declared with enthusiasm. His face blanched momentarily as he thought about the last statement he blurted out, all at once thinking he may have been interpreted as being indelicate or crass. "Oh, no.... Dottie... I didn't mean..." His face, now hidden from the rays of the sun under the pier, managed to bloom a deep pink, a shade usually the result of hours spent in the sun. 

Dot laughed and placed her free hand on his arm to reassure him. He really could be a most awkward fellow when speaking with her, but she had to admit that, she too, could be more than tongue-tied around him. It was certainly sweet, and one of his endearing qualities. "It's quite alright, Hugh. I do know what you meant. No harm done." Her eyes captured his in a lasting gaze, a beatific smile reaching up her face and deep into her eyes.  

Hugh's eyes widened, then softened in her gaze. He leaned in, his face mere inches from hers. Her lids hanging heavy in anticipation. He stopped his forward momentum to surreptitiously scan their surroundings, mindful of watchful eyes and propriety; their position under the pier in shadow giving them a decided advantage. Confident that they were unseen, he uncharacteristically reached forward and looped both arms around Dot and brought her in tight leaving a gentle but passionate kiss on her lips. _(The book Miss Fisher lent me has, certainly, been quite helpful. Especially that chapter on kissing!)_ By the time the shock wore off, Dot had started to respond to the soft lips that were now breaking away from hers. Her lids fluttered, and a demure but unabashed smile crept up her face. 

"Well, Miss Williams," he said as he bowed his arm out from his side, offering it to her, "Shall we see what this bottle and our picnic basket contain?” His countenance all sweetness and smiles. 

"Why yes, Mr. Collins," she responded, blinking bashfully, looping her arm in his and resting her hand on his bicep, "I believe we shall." As they began to walk out from under the pier, Dottie lay her head on Hugh's shoulder shrugging a hug to his side. 

They ambled back to their rented bathing box where they had deposited their things earlier. Hugh pulled the key from the cord hanging round his neck and unlocked the door. Upon entering, he set about laying out one of the blankets on the floor and set out the basket and its contents for their picnic.  

Dot grabbed a towel on the nearby bench, dried off the bottle she had found, and set it on the bench. She walked over to the blanket where Hugh was setting up lunch to help with the final preparations, her stomach gurgling in complaint. She immediately placed one hand on her stomach and the other over her mouth, as Hugh looked up with a grin. "Oh my goodness... I guess I **am** pretty hungry then." A sheepish smile could be seen around the edges of her fingers. 

"Come sit down, then," Hugh remarked, patting the space on the blanket next to him. "Let's get you fortified, then we can look at what's in the bottle." 

Dottie grabbed the thermos of lemonade and the cups from the hamper, pouring some for each, while Hugh began to plate up the variety of foods they had brought with them. It was a veritable cornucopia of foodstuffs – cold meats, cheeses, fruit, and biscuits, among the many delectables - that they suspected they would not be able to polish off, at least not in one sitting, and perhaps not by the time they had to return to Wardlow. Mr. Butler was always generous when packing any food baskets, especially those that were destined for City South, whether for Constable Collins or the Inspector. Knowing the appetites of both men, it was always better to err on the side of too much. And with this particular basket, Dot had included a few of her baked goods that Hugh favored. Needless to say, neither of the pair would starve. 

He handed her a plate at the same time she handed him the lemonade. They both blushed and smiled a bit as they almost bumped their offerings into each other's hand. The next many minutes were spent in blissfully rapt silence as they ate, hungrily devouring the first number of bites before slowing and savoring the rest of the feast. They happily munched and chatted until their hunger was well sated and their conversation slowed to a pause. 

"As ever, Dottie, my compliments to Mr. Butler," he announced. "That was a delicious picnic!" Hugh raved. "I think I'm full to the gills," he added as he stretched his legs out and patted both palms on his burgeoning belly.  

Dot's smile raced across her face as her eyes lit up from the fine praise from her beau. "Why, thank you, Hugh. I'll make sure to let **him** know," she replied as she began to clear away the dishes.  

Hugh blanched then reddened, his hands reaching out, waving in protest. He began to stutter, the beginnings of words popping, by bits, out of his mouth, “You know I… I love your cooking… I mean your baking… you know what I mean, Dottie… I…” he reached for her hand, pulling it away from her task. 

Dot put her free hand on his, stroking it in a calming manner. She chuckled, bringing her hand to cup his chin, stroking his cheek. “I know, you silly goose.” Her tender words were rewarded by a look of relief which quickly melted into a broad grin and a quick peck on her cheek. “Now let’s finish clearing up so we can have a look at the bottle, eh?” 

They finished clearing away the dishes, stacking them neatly into the basket and packing away the remaining food in no time. Hugh pulled a blanket and some towels and folded them up setting them against the bench next to the wall. He then set the basket in the middle of the blanket as Dottie brought over the found bottle. They sat down on the blanket, both leaning against the now padded bench. Dot rolled the bottle over in her hands, looking at it from all angles, her face lost in concentration. She began to pick at the encrustation that covered the seal at top of the bottle. “Could you hand me a knife and my handkerchief, Hugh? I want to get this lid off, and it looks like it's rusted and crusted close.” 

“Say, why don't I give it a go first? See if I can get it open?” Hugh replied as he rummaged through the basket to find the needed implements. Once found, Dorothy handed him the bottle and he carefully worked the wire lever to open the seal. It was proving to be stubborn as the rust and encrustation was impeding his efforts, but finally the metal wires clicked into the open position making a popping sound as the seal was broken. He handed the bottle over to Dot, letting her do the honors of removing the message. 

She shook the bottle trying to get the papers to drop towards the bottleneck, but they were not wound tightly enough to pour out. She picked up the knife to use it as leverage, bringing down the pages as she scraped the sides of the upended bottle. After a few misses and close calls, she finally managed to get enough up through the bottleneck to be able to slide her finger in and pull the rest out. She set down the bottle to her side, stretching and wiggling her fingers to remove the sudden cramping. She unrolled the papers and flattened them out on her lap. 

"What's it say, Dottie?" Hugh tucked in close by her side, his head peeking over her shoulder in an attempt to read the aged pages. 

"Hold on a moment..." She said as she brought the papers closer. "Let me get a good look at it." Dot spent the next several minutes in concentrated silence, her lips moving with every word she read, slowly becoming engrossed in the story in her hands. It spoke of duty, adventure, love and longing. All the best elements of an epic yarn. She gasped, cooed, frowned, and smiled; a myriad emotions playing over her face as she was swept away in the tale of long ago. "It's from a sailor, Hugh. A sailor on ship out of England. From 50 years ago! Imagine where this bottle has been in all those years! Bobbing along the ocean, being swept from current to current, to finally land at the other end of the world... Can you believe it?" Her eyes were wide with wonder; her mind wild with ideas.  

"Why don't you read it to me, Dottie," Hugh leaned back and yawned. The exertion of the day and the heavy meal catching up with him. He leaned into her shoulder, his lids dipping. 

"Sounds like someone's sleepy," she said reaching for a towel. She folded it up and set it on her lap. "Rest your head, and I'll read you the letter. Here you go, then," she added then patted the towel. Hugh obliged and yawned again settling his head on her lap, tucking his arms to his chest and curling his hands next to Dottie's knee. 

As he drifted off, Dot regaled him with the sailor's everyday details of life on a ship, the ports of call, exotic locations and, of course, the requisite pining for his love left back in London, who, at the time of the letter, was expecting their first child. He was worried for her safety and expressed his concern that his ship might not return in time for the birth. He was torn between the excitement of the open ocean, the adventure of world travel and the love of his life and impending family. A dilemma of seafaring men throughout the ages – forever torn between two mistresses - the sea, and the love of a woman. 

Sometime later, when Dottie nudged Hugh's shoulder, a snuffling noise rose from the lump on her lap. She chuckled softly, and nudged him again. "Hugh... Hugh... time to wake up." She gently threaded her fingers through his hair. 

"Hmmm... Huh? Wha? Sir? Aye, aye, sir!" He jerked upwards rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear the fog from his head. 

"My goodness... Where did you sail off to in dreamland?" She queried softly, a grin growing on her face as she rolled up the papers in her hands. A stiff breeze blew open the door, the sound of the waves crashing coming to the fore. 

"Must have been the high seas – all that talk of ships and travel and such." He rubbed his face with both hands chasing the last of sleep from his eyes. Sounds of gulls wafted into their box bringing him back to the present. 

"Can you help me with this? I wrote a letter to put in the bottle with the other one. I've rolled it up as tight as I could, but I don't think it's tight enough. Can you give it a try?" She handed the sheaf of papers (her pencil at the center) to him and held the bottle up. 

Outside the row of bathing boxes, a tatterdemalion tottered by, weaving in the sand, a bottle of pungent spirits in hand. 

"Dottie... Dot..." He panted, in between held breaths, "I really... I really don't think that's going to fit." He said, trying to cram the roll of pages into the bottle. 

"Of course it will, Hugh. Just push." She replied enthusiastically. 

"Aaay now you lot!" The ragamuffin blurted as she passed in front of their bathing box. "Tha's nuthin' thet should be said in p'lite comp'ny!" One hand steadied her wobbling form to the door frame, while the other swung loosely to the side still grasping the bottle. 

Shocked by the interruption of the passerby, the couple looked up, simultaneously blanching. They both began to stammer. 

"Oh, goodness... you gave me a fright!" Squeaked Dot as she clutched her hand to her chest. 

"Wha...? No...! It's not..." Hugh started, his face and ears now turning a familiar shade of crimson. 

"Oi! Hullow there, lamb," slurred the inebriated intruder. "Or mebbe I should say 'tigah'," she winked, a knowing glint in her eye.  

Hugh's eyes grew large as he recognized the woman at the door. He pinched his nose between his fingers momentarily and rose to stand. He walked cautiously towards the swaying form at the door. "Lizard... Elsie..." He reached for the bottle in her hand which she drew behind her in an attempt to keep it from him. 

"S'mine, Con-sta-bull cherub," she protested, "ya can't have it. 'm not done with it." She nodded to him, crossing her arms indicating that she was finished with their conversation. "Wonder whut muh Jackie would have to say about his best boy compromising this little lovely for all to hear." 

Dot looked on, curiosity getting the better of her, the roses in her cheeks flaming again. She opened her mouth to speak, looking towards Hugh. 

He lowered and shook his head; sighing heavily and running his hand down down the corners of his mouth, he pondered the situation. "Elsie... Mrs. Tizzard..." He began. 

"No need for formalities, luv. Ain't we old friends by now?" She was now in a full body lean on the door frame. (The Inspector would be proud.) 

"I should take you in to the cells to dry out, Elsie." He started, "but..." He lunged forward catching her as she started to slither towards the ground. "Upsie daisy. C'mon. Let's get you out of the sun." Hugh braced her to his side and brought her over to the blankets on the floor. 

"You're a good man, darlin." Elsie smiled up at him and patted his cheek. "My Jackie's been a good influence on yeh, then. He's a good'un. Best jack I know." She snorted at her unintentional joke. "Where's yer manners, lamb? Yeh haven't introduced me to your lady love." She looked up from the floor from over to Dot who was arranging the towels and blankets on the floor. 

"Elsie Tizzard, this is my sweetheart, Miss Dorothy Williams. Dottie, Elsie Tizzard." He looked from one woman to the other. 

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am." Dot acknowledged with a nod and a smile. 

"You Keep this one, luvvy. Heez a real gem." Elsie patted Dot's arm as she leaned back against the wall. 

"Tell you what, Elsie. Why don't you have a kip here, alright?" Hugh offered. 

"You spoil me with these fancy digs, luv." She smiled and stretched out her legs. "An' sumthin' smells d'licious. You two hiding a banquet in here?" She smacked her lips, patted her stomach with one hand and thunked the bottle, still in her grip, on the floor. 

Dottie fidgeted as she moved towards the hamper. "Well... we did have a picnic earlier. And there's plenty left over if you'd like..." 

Elsie yawned, her eyes drooping as her body angled towards the horizontal. "Think I'll go fer that kip now, eh?" She flailed her hand towards the towels to her side and bunched them together creating a makeshift pillow. Her mouth agape, a snore escaping before she landed.   

Hugh squatted down and tucked the towels securely under her head as Dot shook out a blanket to cover her. After tucking her in, they retreated to the other side of the room. "You think we ought to keep an eye on her? Stay until she wakes?" Dottie asked. 

"She... she'll be fine. She usually needs a bit of sleep then she'll be ready to go home," Hugh replied, glancing over to the sleeping form. "Although I think it's best if we remove any additional temptation," he said, gently prizing the bottle Elsie arrived with, out of her firm grip. He put it up to his nose and took a big sniff, instantly regretting it. He drew the bottle away, its pungent contents causing his eyes to water and his nose to protest. "Reminds me of that bootleg Flint's Rum from Queenscliff." 

"Mmm... " she nodded, her nose wrinkling in sympathy. "Good idea," Dot agreed. "Why don't we head back to the pier and send off the message, and while we're there, we can empty that one," she lifted her chin to indicate the bottle in his hand as she reached to grab the other bottle in question. "Give her some time to sleep it off." 

"Wonderful idea, Miss Williams," he said as he bowed his free arm out, proffering it to her. She wrapped her arm around his, squeezing his bicep and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek. Her eyes darted towards Elsie in hopes that she was still asleep. A short snort, pause, and resumption of the soft snoring, confirmed her suspicion. Dot rolled her bottom lip inwards sinking her teeth into it, grinned, shrugged and pulled Hugh out of the bathing box. 

They eased the door closed and headed back to the pier at a leisurely pace enjoying the day and each other's company. When they finally reached the end of the pier, Dot handed the bottle to Hugh. "Wait... ah, don't you want to throw it in, Dottie?" 

"I wrote the note. Why don't you send it off, then. A joint effort. Something from both of us?" She smiled up at him and squeezed his arm in encouragement.  

His face lit up in response; a toothy grin joined his sparkling eyes. He eased the bottle from her hand and pulled back a step from the edge. His face became calm, then quite serious; he drew his arm back and hurled the bottle into the waters. He paused, watching it float away on the waves. "I wonder how long it might be before someone finds it," he pondered, bringing his hand to his brows to shade his eyes as he watched it disappear from sight. 

Dot slid up behind him and snaked her arms around his midsection and on her tippy toes, rested her head on his shoulder. "It could be days, months, even decades. We may never know, " she said, sighing.  

Hugh crossed his arms to wrap around his middle, his hands covering hers. He shifted slightly, bringing her to his side, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his head on hers as they continued to silently watch the moving water, both lost deep in thought. 

The sun had begun its descent down the horizon, and the breezes were now edged with the slightest snap of chill; a sign that the warmth of the day was coming to a close. Color radiated outward from the sun slowly painting the sky in layers of pinks and orange over the previously bright blues of the day; the jewel tones becoming richer and darker with each passing minute. 

"We'd best be getting back, and check on Lizard... I mean Else... Elsie." Hugh said, breaking the spell of the moment. 

They returned to their bathing box in no time to find it deserted; the blankets and towels folded, the picnic basket set neatly atop the pile. A piece of paper stuck out of the hamper flap. 

Dot reached down to pull it out, reading the note aloud. 

_"Dear Constable Cherub,"_

Dot giggled, a silly look washing over her face as she looked from Hugh back to the note. 

_"Much obliged for the kip and grub. If I'd'a known I'd'a wound up at the Windsor Hotel fer the day, I mighta worn my best frock._

_My compliments to the chef! A spread fit for a king!_

_And to the missus – keep your eye on this one. Don't let him get snatched up by summan' else. Like I said, he's a keeper, this one._

_And speakin of keepers, since ya saw fit to keep my bottle, you owe me one. Summat better'n what you took, if you please._

_Right, then. I best be toddling off. Thanks for the lovely day, lamb. I'll let you get back to yer little lady._

_Elsie"_

Hugh chuckled at the last bit. The cheek of her! He most certainly would not be contributing to her further delinquency. He had no doubt, however, that he'd see her nestled in the cells sleeping it off sometime within the next few weeks. But at least for today, she was rested, fed and out of harm's way.  

While Dot had been reading the note, Hugh had been collecting their things. At its close, he huffed a quiet chuckle accompanied by a sly grin. _(That Elsie sure is a character.)_ “Ready to head home then, Dottie?” He looked up as she was tucking the note into her handbag. 

“I believe I am,“ she replied as she bounced on her toes, walking towards the open door. 

They paused just outside as Hugh locked up. He once again proffered his arm to his companion as they headed towards Wardlow. Dot slid her arm in his, pulling him slightly down as she raised up on her toes to bringing his ear close to her lips. “Thank you for a very lovely day.” She punctuated her statement with a feather light kiss on his cheek, color blooming instantly.  

“My pleasure, Dottie,” he reciprocated, his face alight, smile wide. “Any day I can spend with my best girl, is tops in my book.” Hugh glanced around to see if any stragglers were looking in their direction. Seeing that no one was paying them any mind, he set down the hamper, enveloped her in his arms, dipped her and kissed her soundly. He righted her, her eyes still closed and a soft smile edging her lips, and picked up the hamper. 

“Why, Constable Collins… Mrs. Tizzard was right. You sure are a keeper!” Dot’s eyes sparkled as bright as the emerging stars in the night sky as they made their way home. 

 

 

________________________________________________ 

*From Wikipedia: A flip-top, swing-top, or Quillfeldt stopper (after the inventor, Charles de Quillfeldt) is a type of closure frequently used for bottles containing carbonated beverages, such as beer or mineral water. The mouth of the bottle is sealed by a stopper, usually made of porcelain or plastic, fitted with a rubber gasket and held in place by a set of wires. The bottle can be opened and resealed repeatedly and without the use of a bottle opener, with the wires acting in the same way as a latch clamp The flip-top was the dominant method of sealing beer and mineral water bottles prior to the invention of the crown cork.


End file.
